Intro:
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And it don't stop to the beat, baby
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Funky Fresh on the microphone
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One time for your mind, beeyatch (Beeyatch)
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Short Dogg's in the motherfuckin house
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doin what we always do, a stack
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(Gettin money) Gettin money (Gettin money)
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Chorus: Too $hort, (Slink Capone)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(Fuck a secret indictment, all I do is write shit)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(You got the wrong rappers, nigga you better tell em!!)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(Tell em Short, tell em!!!)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(OOOOOHHHHH!!!!!)
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Verse One:
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You broke the law, and you got caught
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Got a good lawyer, case is bein fought
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Life is full of choices, make em at the crossroads
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If you had five, you already lost four
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Straight apprehended, handcuffed and can't stand it
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Don't wanna go to jail but you was caught redhanded
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A felony, strike number two
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Federal Agents like, "What you wanna do?"
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Make a choice, so you start to think back
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Short Dogg was a nigga that always rapped
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Half my life ago, didn't sell no dope
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I sold dope fiend music for your stereo
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Sittin at the crossroads in '84
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I knew hella motherfuckers that was slangin coke
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Use to tell my homeboys, front me a sack
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Postin me at the dopehouse dumpin the crack
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My niggas wouldn't do it, I love em for that
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cos now I still rap and get paid to gat
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Since '87, that's how the shit comes
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We made two hundred thousand in six months
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Sellin tapes not cakes, cheques kept comin
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Fuck buyin *?boats?*, niggas makin hundreds
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Legit, you think I'm stupid, bitch
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I bought a studio so I can do this shit
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Chorus: Too $hort, (Slink Capone)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(You got it twisted, Bridget
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Why pressin charges when I'm depressin hard and shit)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(Run tell em, tell em Short, tell em)
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Verse Two:
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I used to sell weed in high school, smoked the profit
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I never sold *?company due?*, I can't knock it
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cos the inner city public school system is fucked
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Go to class all day, you ain't gettin enough
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So at 3:15 it's time to put in work
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Buy you some dope and go hit the turf
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Ain't no scholarship, no rap contract
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but a nigga get paid sellin hop and crack
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I got lucky, it's not a get-rich scheme
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I've been sellin rap tapes since I was 15
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I told the Oakland police, too many times
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I make a lot of money doin pimp rhymes
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I never sell drugs to jeopardise my freedom
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You never could make me realise I need em
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I went from hundreds, to hundreds to thousands, to millions
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I know what police want, I feel em
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I'm always ballin right there in the hype
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Instantly, dope dealer stereotype
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but shit is serious, I know I never sold drugs
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so why these motherfuckers tryin ta roll me up?
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And smoke me, why? No one knows
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The only thing I did wrong was fuck all ya hoes
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I don't smoke coke blunts and sho' don't sell em
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Call the FBI, somebody please tell em
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Chorus: Too $hort, (Slink Capone)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(All you motherfuckers is lookin at us rock jewelery and shit
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That's all you are)
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Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
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(Somebody better tell em we got receipts)
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Verse Three:
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Rap is brand new, not long ago
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Made a billion dollars last year round the globe
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Now all the little kids can't let it go
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to the new millenium with a brand new flow
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Too $hort baby straight from the O
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If you're like me, you're tryin ta make some doe
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Roll to the spot and try ta break a hoe
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Pimp her real hard and then take it slow
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When I rap to a bitch, I'm a pro
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I spit this game like never befo'
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Grab the microphone and always rock the show
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then I grab me a freak, tell her "Keep it on the low"
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If I take her to my house she won't say no
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I burn rubber with the bitch in my fo'-fifty-fo'
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California niggas drop the top and roll
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Stare up at the mountains, won't see no snow
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I go coast to coast smokin indo
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If my bitch actin up, I fuck her friend so
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don't investigate me for sellin dope
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If |